


Change

by okeydokey (LilMissNerdfighter)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco is hopelessly drunk, Harry has pretty eyes, Hermione knows everything, M/M, Ron is having a bit of a difficult day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/671016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilMissNerdfighter/pseuds/okeydokey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco is giving up. After all, change is inevitable, isn't it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

He made Draco so angry. The way he effortlessly caught snitches, how he couldn’t brew potions, how everyone loved him, because he was their _saviour_. The way his black hair wouldn’t stay flat made Draco’s blood boil, and weren’t those circular glasses just the most annoying things in the Universe? He wanted to snap them in two sometimes-all the time.

Yet, as the days passed Draco was horrified to find that he got butterflies in his stomach when the prat smiled. He thought it was kind of cute when he yelled insults at him, or when he tried to defend Weasley and Granger. He found he didn’t care so much when he won House Points. And didn’t that just make everything a million times worse?

Now, he had to choose his words carefully to stop himself actually hurting the Golden Boy. He avoided using jinxes that would damage him and boycotted hexes completely. He had to bite back a smile when the moron couldn’t think of an original retort. It was becoming almost impossible for Draco Malfoy to remain the cold-hearted Slytherin bully when the Gryffindor was around. He always had liked to make things difficult for Draco, hadn’t he? But this was an all-time low.

So, he took alternative routes to lessons, and bolted from the classes the moment they had finished (except for Potions, where he lingered for longer than necessary). He found that his Boggart had changed from the Dark Lord standing over his mother’s dead body to his Father and Potter duelling. He stopped ranting to Crabbe and Goyle about Potter and retreated to his chambers whenever the subject of the seeker was brought up. He couldn’t stop himself from defending the idiot any more.

Draco was sure that Potter knew. Granger certainly did; she cornered him after breakfast one morning, whispering furtively that either he told Potter or he sorted himself out (preferably both).He couldn’t remember what he had told her. He supposed it was something along the lines of ‘believe me, I’m trying’, but he couldn’t be sure. Knowing his luck, he had probably recited lines of poetry at her. After that encounter, he had tried to be a little more civil towards her, knowing that she could ruin him in a heartbeat.

Days, weeks and then months passed this way; Draco listening for titbits of information about Potter, and yet going out of his way to avoid him. He ignored Granger’s sympathetic glances , black clouds following him around whenever he heard rumours that some random bitch had been caught snogging Potter in corridors. That was nearly as painful as the Cruciatus Curse.

Still, he didn’t do anything. He was quiet, immersing himself in his studies, forever following his Father’s orders. He didn’t do anything for as long as possible, until he was informed he was to become a Death Eater- that the Dark Lord had plans for him. That was when he knew he had to do something. He was not going to sit around and wait to become a mindless killing machine- if it meant hurting the one that he loved, then it wasn’t happening. The worst thing was, he did in fact _love_ Potter, even if he was the most infuriating creature to walk to the planet.

That was when he decided to take action. He grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey (for courage) and headed up to the Gryffindor Tower, taking swigs as he hurried. The warmth of the drink filled him. If this was what it felt to be a Gryffindor, then he understood why they were so friendly. It felt pleasant to be this warm and tingly.

By the time he reached the Tower, he was properly drunk. He ignored the Fat Lady’s protests, slamming his hand repeatedly against her portrait until her shrieks summoned a grumpy Gryffindor from their Common Room.

‘What do you want, Malfoy?’ snapped Weasley, arms folded across his chest. His scowl didn’t suit his face, Draco thought, he really should smile more. Then maybe Granger would go out with him. The fact that he was even considering Weasley and Granger’s love life made him feel like laughing. He barely stopped the giggles bubbling up.

It was only after a moment or so of trying not to let the laughter escape, did he remember that there was a reason why he was there in the first place.

‘I need to speak to umm… Potter,’ Draco slurred. ‘It’s important.’

‘I don’t think so- Wait. Malfoy, are you drunk?’ Weasley raised one eyebrow, which combined with the scowl made him look even more ridiculous.

‘Just a little bit,’ he admitted, waving the half empty bottle in Weasley’s face. Weasley sighed, massaging his temples.

‘Listen Malfoy, I’m 99.9% sure that Harry does not want to talk to you. So, piss off.’

‘Weasley, c’mon!’ whined Draco, waving the bottle some more. ‘You can have this. Look. Take it.’ He pushed the Firewhiskey into Weasley’s hands, ignoring his now bemused expression. Draco coughed twice, trying to clear his head, the warm sensation refusing to go away. ‘I know we haven’t always seen eye-to-eye, but I need to… to speak to Potter. Now. About umm… stuff. Important stuff…’

‘Malfoy, seriously. He’s kinda pissed off at the moment with everyone in general. Now, is not a good time. Go home.’ Weasley had ceased to be cross, and was now just looking confused.

‘I can’t go home.’ Draco confessed, quietly. Weasley shook his head slightly, his eyebrows furrowed.

‘Go back to Slytherin then. Whatever. Just quit lurking. Thanks for the Firewhiskey though.’

Weasley turned to leave. He wasn’t allowed to leave, Draco really needed to speak to Potter. Not to confess his undying love (yeah, right), but just to let him know that Draco wasn’t evil. That he didn’t want to be on the opposing side, and that maybe, just maybe, he wanted to help the Order. To help Harry-Potter.

‘I’m not a Death Eater yet.’ Draco told Weasley’s retreating back, watching with interest as the Gryffindor froze.

‘Yet?’ Weasley asked, not turning back to face him.

‘No. Not quite.’ Draco was suddenly sober, realising that this might be the last chance he had to get some sort of message to Harry.

‘But you will be, soon?’

‘Maybe.’ Draco paused, wishing he had the Firewhiskey back. ‘I don’t want to be.’

Weasley waited for him to speak, watching the Fat Lady shift awkwardly in her portrait.

‘So please, Weasley, can I speak to Harry?’

For an endless moment, Weasley said nothing. Then he turned, nodding as he did so, his expression, for once, unreadable. Was it the please or the use of Harry’s name that made him change his mind? Draco didn’t know, but did it really matter?

‘Come on, Malfoy.’ Weasley muttered the password, the door swinging open, and gestured for Draco to follow. Draco took a deep breath, wondering how his life had come to this, before following.

The Gryffindor Common Room was relatively empty, the fire blazing in the hearth. The sound of laughter lingered in the air, and the air was filled with smoke. Weasley- Ron-mumbled a garbled apology about the smog, telling Draco that a sample of Fred and George’s products had been sent in the post that morning, and that everyone had been clamouring to try the indoor fireworks out. Apparently it had become immediately obvious they were still in testing and needed some work.

Everyone (the Golden duo in the corner, some third year girls and a cluster of first years desperately trying to finish some Transfiguration homework) looked up when Weasley entered. Seeing that it was only him, they all relaxed. It was only when Draco emerged fully from behind the portrait, white hair contrasting with the reds and golds of Gryffindor Tower, did silence fall.

The first years, who had heard the rumours, dropped their quills, mouths falling open simultaneously. The third years looked torn between surprise and confusion. However, Granger didn’t have the decency to look surprised, and Harry looked like he was struggling to decide whether to be pleased or to be angry. He settled on anger though, much to Draco’s dismay. With a quick glare from Ron, the onlookers scarpered, whispering about _Draco Malfoy_ ’s appearance in _their_ Common Room as they ran.

‘What is _he_ doing here?’ Harry roared, leaping to his feet. Within seconds, Harry’s wand was pressed against Draco’s throat. Despite this, Draco made no attempt to defend himself. Whether it was the alcohol, loss of the will to live, or just the fact that Harry was in such close proximity to him, he didn’t know. He stumbled backwards a little, losing his balance as Harry pressed forwards. It was definitely inappropriate to be noticing how Harry’s green eyes were, but Draco didn’t care. Then there were arms pulling them apart and the sound of a bottle clattering to the floor. The distance didn’t make Harry’s eyes any less beautiful. ‘Ron, why is he here?’

‘The Ferret needs to talk to you. Says it’s important.’  Ron told Harry, his voice level. ‘He brought Firewhiskey.’ Ron gestured to the liquid spilt all over the floor and the shattered bottle. Harry remained tense, but Granger visibly relaxed.

‘Right then. Malfoy, why don’t you sit down? Oh for Merlin’s sake, Harry! If he came all this way, then it must be important!’ Hermione offered Draco a half smile, before pushing Harry into the nearest armchair. Draco obeyed, perching awkwardly on the edge of the seat. Hermione and Ron sat on the sofa opposite him, Hermione leaning forward slightly, looking genuinely intrigued. ‘So, Malfoy-‘

‘Draco. Call me Draco.’ He sighed. If he was going to destroy his reputation, he might as well do it thoroughly. This small peace offering only made Hermione look more interested, Ron more confused and Harry, unfortunately, more suspicious.

‘Okay then, Draco.’ Hermione continued. ‘Why are you here?’

Draco seized up all his courage, drawing strength from his surroundings and Harry’s attention.

‘I am to become a Death Eater over the summer. Against my wishes. I want out of the Death Eaters, and if that means helping your lot, then I’ll do whatever it takes. They’re asking me to do… questionable- evil- things… and I’m not going to mindlessly do what they tell me to anymore. All I ask is for your help- and protection for my mother-and I’ll do anything you ask of me.’

‘Draco-‘ Hermione began, the dreaded sympathy returning to her eyes. Merlin, how he hated how easily she felt sorry for him. However, Harry interrupted her.

‘If you had to choose between your family and the Order, which side would you pick?’

‘The Order. I may be a Malfoy, but I’m not suicidal.’ Draco replied, without a moment’s hesitation. He mentally added that his love for a certain Boy-Who-Refused-To-Die was affecting his choices, but he didn’t think saying it aloud would help matters. Harry’s eyes met Draco’s and he was once again lost in a sea of green. Honestly, Draco wouldn’t have been surprised if Harry had been able to see into his soul.

It took a moment for Harry to say anything. Draco could feel his heart pounding in his chest as Harry took his time. What Harry said went, he was the leader of the Golden Trio and they would follow his orders. If he rejected what Draco had to say, they might’ve protested, but ultimately his decision was final. Draco didn’t dare look at Hermione and Ron. If he was being honest, he was afraid. This was what would determine his fate- whether he lived or died. There was no doubt in his mind that if Harry decided he was lying, that he was trying to double-cross them, then he would die. If Harry thought that little of him, then he wanted to die. Which was hideously melodramatic, he knew, but it was the truth.

After an eternity of silence, Harry looked away. Draco gulped, his fate had been decided. Harry shook his head slightly and Draco felt his heart plummet. Was that it? Had what he had said been dismissed as nothing more than a drunken enemy’s lies?

‘Harry, please. I am telling the truth. Please, I need your help.’ Draco begged, once and for all lobbing all rules regarding how Malfoys should behave out of the Gryffindor Tower window. He was breaking all the rules tonight. Harry’s eyes momentarily softened, before his anger returned with a vengeance.

‘And why should I help you? You have tormented me for years now- you have hexed my friends, and insulted my family. You have made my life living hell! And now you’re on your knees, pleading for my _protection_. Why do you deserve it?’ Harry yelled, rising to his feet, fists clenched, wand showering red sparks.

‘I don’t.’ Draco whispered, closing his eyes to hide Harry’s wrath.

‘You what?’

‘I don’t deserve your help. But I need it. Desperately. I am not going to lie to you. Without it I will be dead within weeks.’ Draco looked up, meeting Harry’s glare with imploring eyes.

‘Why should I care?’

‘Fine.’ Draco gave up. ‘Don’t care. Let me walk away. Sentence my mother to death, because she tried to protect me and stuck by my father, because she believes that he could change.’ Harry opened his mouth to protest, but Draco continued, not letting him interrupt. ‘If you turn me away, you are letting another person who loves you die. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t recite the curse yourself, but you will still be responsible. Can your fucking hero complex take that?’ Draco slumped back into the chair, resting his head in his hands. ‘Why did I have to fall in love with _you_? Fucking Gryffindor Prince, with your ever faithful army. What’s wrong with Pansy? Or Astoria? Or actually anyone else? Why you?’

From the corner of his eye, Draco could see Ron spluttering, his ears turning red. Draco would’ve bet the entire contents of his Gringotts Vault that Ron had not expected to hear Draco confess his love for Harry freaking Potter two hours ago. To be fair, he hadn’t expected to actually admit it. Having Hermione know was bad enough, now the entirety of the Golden Trio knew. Now Harry knew. Fuck it, Draco thought, no more secrets, eh?

‘You love me?’ Harry repeated incredulously, his anger seemingly diminished.

‘Yes, I love you, Potter. Happy now? Will it help you send me to my grave, the knowledge that you know all of my secrets?’ Draco was standing again, his wand lying uselessly on the chair.

‘Merlin, Malfoy. I- I didn’t know.’

‘But this doesn’t change anything?’

‘I… Why didn’t you say something?’

‘Say what? Hey, Potter- nice scar. By the way, I am hopelessly in love with you, you fucking Gryffindor?’

‘How can you love me? You _despise_ me!’

‘Fine line between love and hate- you know what they say. Besides, people change.’

‘And you’ve changed?’

‘Yes. Obviously. Slow today, aren’t we?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘Well, in that case…’ Harry hesitated, the façade of confidence slipping.

 ‘In that case?’ Draco asked, biting his lip nervously.

‘In that case, consider yourself helped.’

Harry leant forward and kissed Draco softly, briefly, on the lips. It lasted for less than three seconds, nothing more. It might not have been a confession of undying love, or of anything more than lack of hate. But it was a promise. A promise of things to come and of change. Change for the better. And in that moment, that was all Draco needed.


End file.
